


Not Good With Words, But I Can Make You Feel Good Anyway

by QueenoftheWallflowers



Series: Kink Meme 2020 [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Kink Meme, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheWallflowers/pseuds/QueenoftheWallflowers
Summary: Murphy isn't too good with apologizes, but sex, he's good at that. He can make Clarke feel good.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/John Murphy
Series: Kink Meme 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609159
Comments: 20
Kudos: 98
Collections: The 100 Kinkmeme Round 2020





	Not Good With Words, But I Can Make You Feel Good Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme Prompt: Prompt: Murphy feels bad at the beginning of season 6 that everyone is ganging up on Clarke. So, he gives her a nice, gentle fuck to make her feel better.

Murphy couldn’t sleep.  
He wasn't sure what it was.  
The bed was soft, the blankets warm, there was no threat.  
He should have been fast asleep.  
But all he could think about was Clarke.  
On his mind were all the things that he and the others had said to Clarke.  
He had seen the brief flicker of pain in her eyes as each word cut her deep but he was so angry, so hurt that he had not noticed how deep the cuts went.  
He had seen the way she trembled watching Bellamy and Echo in each other's arms and at that second he felt bad for her.  
He knew what it was like to want someone you can’t have.  
To love someone but not be with them.  
But he thought about how devasted Bellamy was and how hurt he was when Clarke left him to die and he buried his pity for Clarke under his anger. 

But after the Red Sun, he can’t forget how badly she was hurting, not after he had seen how she held a knife to her throat, thinking that she was the poison. That her daughter, thatBellamy, that they were all better off without her.  
He was upset with her, with the way she had betrayed them- betrayed Bellamy, but the idea that she just wanted to die, to just give up made him even angrier.  
She was Clarke Griffin.  
She was a fighter.  
That was the Clarke Griffin he knew.  
The Clarke Griffin he knew fought with everything she had and always put Bellamy first.  
She let a bomb drop to save him, she couldn't shoot him even whenever the fate of humanity depended on her. But now she had a new priority.  
Now Clarke Griffin has given up.  
Maybe they had changed more in the time apart than he had thought.  
But still he could not get the look out of his mind.  


She has been so small under Bellamy’s hands, him on top of her.  
He never thought of Clarke as small, she always seemed larger than life- the great Wanheda, Princess of the Ark, co-leader of the 100, Bellamy's Princess. Clarke was just there, everything about her was big- her heart, her brain, her willingness to protect others.  
But with a knife pressed against her throat, tears in her eyes, and then under Bellamy, his hands wrapped around her throat, she seems small.  
Murphy thought about the way she had kept Bellamy from killing him and of the way she had taken care of him on the dropship when the Grounders had used him to wipe out the 100.  
How she had sacrificed everything for them to live in space, how she stood there and took their anger, their blows.  
A far cry from the girl who first landed on the ground.  
The guilt was buzzing in his blood. She had taken the blood when she heard him beg. She had done that for him. Had ever he said thank you? Told her he was happy that she was alive? 

And before he could even think about it he got up and made his way to her room.  
He doesn't bother to knock and she sits up quickly making him wonder if she had been pretending to sleep which then made him wonder when was the last time she had slept.  
“Murphy?”  
She’s pale against the dark sheets. She seems young too, dressed in a simple tank top.  
The apologies dies on his lips and he’s not sure what to say.  
An "I’m sorry" doesn’t seem like enough.  
Not after anything.  


He crosses over and braces one hand on the bed intent of giving her a hug, one arm around her waist but instead one of them, or both of them move their heads, and his lips brush hers.  
He can't tell who is more surprised but he doesn't pull away. She lets out a soft cry of surprise and it takes her a few seconds to react and then she kisses him back a soft sigh on her lips and his hand reaches for her jaw.  
She kisses him softly, hesitatingly.  
It surprises him, he expected it to be all teeth and dominating, for her to take control but she’s hesitant, soft.  
He pulls away, his hand still on her jaw and he rests his forehead against hers and he hears her let out a shuttering breath.  
Kissing Clarke its not like what he expected.  
He likes it, a lot more than he thought he would.  
But there's still this guilt in him because Clarke is Bellamy's and he loves Emori.  
But then he thinks about the hell he saw and how Bellamy is with Echo and he loves Emori but is not with her because he screwed up, like always.  
So before he can second-guess himself, he kisses her again, this time harder and she kisses him back, harder, her hands pulling him closer as she leans back until she’s flat on the bed  
He crawls on top of her and he wedges his knee in between her legs and she starts grinding herself against him and he moans.  
Her hands creep under his shirt, fingers cold against his skin, and he lets her tug it off.  
Now with his shirt off, she's bolder, letting her hands run down his spine, nails scratching his back lightly, hands dipping under his pants, fingers digging into his waist.  
He bites her lip and Clarke moans and Murphy pulls away, chuckling when she lets out a soft whine and makes his way down her neck.  
She arches her back as he nips at a spot on her neck, his tongue soothing her and he sucks a mark- his mark on her.  
He knows it's a bad idea, leaving a mark on her but she doesn't seem to complain and he wonders if a part of her wants his mark to feel wanted, loved, desired. To feel less alone.  
The thought that she needs him makes him bite her neck harder and her nails dig into his shoulder and she tilts her head giving him more access.  
When he pulls away from her, her eyes are dark, and she grabs the hem of her shirt and pulls it off, her blond hair hitting around her shoulders and she tosses the shirt to the floor and Murphy takes a second to admire her.  
Clarke Griffin has always been gorgeous, you would have to be blind not to notice it.  
But she’s also been out of reach in his eyes.

That no longer the case.  
He lets his eyes linger on her breasts, they are full, the hard nipples a soft rosy pink. He cups her with his hands and he’s not surprised to see that she spills out of them.  
He tugs on one of her nipples gently and she gives him a soft smile. He then lowers his mouth to her right breast and nips at the side of it, letting his tongue soothe away the pain every other second as he and Clarke lets out a breathy whine and his laughter rumble in his throat.  
He let his tongue swirl on her nipple while his other hand plays with her other breast and Clarke closes her eyes and lets herself feel.

When Murphy had come in, she had not been expecting this, she had been expecting him to yell at her, to kill her.  
Truthfully, she had expecting Echo or someone, anyone to come and kill her, so Murphy was not a surprise when he came to her bed, but his actions were unexpected - his arm sliding around her waist, his lips brushing her nor she did she think she would kiss him back.  
When he kisses her, she felt every part of her roar to life. It hit her then, exactly how long it had been since she had kissed someone like this, it had been a long time since she had someone in between her legs When he pulled away to rest his forehead against her Clarke had been reminded how long it had been since someone had touched her like this since someone had been this soft towards her since someone had desired her. And that it was nice to be desired, wanted,  
And while she may not be in love with Murphy she does love him, so she kisses him back and she didn't hesitate in dragging her nails down his back and pulling his shirt off because she wants to feel someone else's skin on top of hers. She wants to feel him on top of her pressing her into the bed, she needs to feel it.  
She needs to feel Murphy.  
So she lets herself revel in the way his hand squeezes her breast, finger brushing her nipple while his mouth words on sucking a mark onto the side of her breast.  
Murphy seems to be torn between being soft with the occasional flash of pain.

There's an ache in between her legs and while she loves the sensation of Murphy's tongue on her breast; she needs him somewhere else.  
She pushes his head away and he looks up at her, eye glazed, lips wet.  
“Please?”  
A spark appears in his eyes and he smirks at her slowly and Clarke can feel herself getting wet.  
“Please what princess?”  
Clarke thrusts her hips up, a frustrated whine escaping her mouth and Murphy kisses her lips before making his way down her throat and stomach planting kisses on his way down.  
He places a chaste kiss on her stomach, over one of her scars and Clarke lets out a soft sigh.  
He lets his finger trace it over and looks up at her.  
He hadn't noticed it before but she’s covered in scars, some small, some large.  
“The ground was rough.”  
Murphy feels a twinge of guilt, he had never thought exactly that Clarke had gone through in the six-year she had been on the ground, he had seen green and assumed things had been okay.  
He kisses her scar again and Clarke blinks back some tears.  
Kissing her scars was something she expects from Bellamy (at least in her fantasies) not from Murphy, the intimate gesture is soft and gentle and Clarke feels a surge of affection for Murphy.  
There’s a chance he might hate her again in the morning but she will take this for now.  
Murphy hooks his hands onto her pants and pulls them down gently, her panties coming off with her pants and then Clarke is naked in front of him.  
He rises his knees to look at her.  
Blonde hair streaming against the pillow, pale skin soft under the moonlight, her breasts heaving as he looks at her, the scars scattered down her body, the way she smiles at him softly, the patch of curls in between her legs.  
“Murphy.”  
She sits up reaching for him but he pushes her back and she falls back with a soft laugh which turns into a moan as he throws a leg over his shoulder and settles his face in-between her legs.  
He takes a second to look at her, soft blonde curls, wet pink slit and then he licks a quick stripe down and he feels a wave of satisfaction at the moan that comes out of her lips.

He thinks about the fact that it’s been a hundred and thirty years since she has been with someone and decides that while he had no idea how to begin to apologize to Clarke, he knows how to make a woman feel good.  
He’s going to make Clarke feel good.

He spreads her legs wider before he licks a stripe down, letting his tongue swirl around her clit. He feels her finger into his hair, digging into his scalp. He wants to draw it out so he takes his time, licking her slit up and down before swirling his tongue around her clit causing her to let out a loud whine, nails digging into him.  
Clarke forgot how good it feels to have someone between her legs.

She focuses on the way Murphy's tongue feels, with soft kitten licks and the way he licks into her deep. His hand holds her thigh tightly and her leg over his shoulder provides a good angle for him to get to her click and when he slips two fingers into her, she loud out a loud lewd moan.  
One hand flies up to cover her mouth but it doesn't do much as Murphy slips his fingers in and out quickly, crooking his finger a bit hitting a spot that Clarke can't hit on her own.  
It's not long before she feels an unfamiliar sensation and she stutters out, "Mu- Murphy!"  
He flicks her clit, crooks his fingers and Clarke comes, her eyes fluttering close. He pulls away and she gives him a dazed smile and reaches for him.  
He's surprised when she kisses him, her tongue licking the taste of her of his lips.  
Her hands drift down to his pants and she tries to push them down and he pulls way to pull them and then he returns to the space between her legs.  
She lets her hands run down his bare back and down to squeeze his ass and he laughs into her mouth as he kisses her, his own hands roaming over her body.  
She can feel his hard cock against her leg. He pulls away to trail kisses down her stomach, stopping to take her nipples back into his mouth, hands squeezing and groping at her before he pulls away, getting ready to slide into her.  
Their eyes, both of them aware that there will be no going back from this.

"Are you sure?"  
His voice is soft, eyes full of concern.  
"Say the words and I'll..."  
She swallows hard and thrusts her hips up.  
"Fuck me, Murphy."  
He grins and grabs her hips in his hands tightly as he lines himself up.  
He hikes a leg over his waist and their eyes meet and she gives him a wicked smirk at his hesitation.  
"I said fuck me... fuck!"  
Murphy took advantage of Clarke talking to thrust into her and she can't even hold back the loud fuck she makes and Murphy braces himself on the bed and her hands clutch his shoulders as he sets a quick hard pace.  
All his earlier hesitation is gone and Clarke matches his intensity, her nails pressed into his skin, teeth nipping at his lips and later his shoulder. She wraps her other leg around him, locking her ankles at his back and she arches as he nuzzles her neck.  


She comes with a loud muffled shriek and he pulls out and comes on her stomach.  
She blinks up at him, eyes wide and he is quiet, cheeks pink.  
"I'm sorry, I figured the implant got fried."  
Clarke can feel tears in her eyes.  
This man cared enough to think about her failed implant.  
He gets up and gets dressed slowly and then using his shirt he wipes her stomach.  
She doesn't say anything because if she opens her mouth, she will ask him to stay.  
And he can't stay.  
She knows this.  
In the morning, it will be like she doesn't exist.  
Like she doesn't matter.  
In the morning, he will go back to hating her.  
Murphy can feel the weight of the words on his mouth and he turns away from Clarke, her eyes shiny.  
She looks small, fragile naked in her bed and he resists the urge to crawl next to her and hold her, keep her from disappearing.  


He's halfway to the door before the words come out, "I'm sorry."  
Clarke licks her lips, her voice shaky.  
"I'm sorry too."  
She knows he's sorry for a lot of things, things he won't say, won't admit.  
But she's forgiven him a long time ago.  
He hesitates before he opens the door. "I'm glad you're not dead." He leaves her, tears in both of their eyes for different reasons.  


**Author's Note:**

> This started off gentle and then not.
> 
> I hope you liked this.  
> This was a way different experience of writing from writing Bellarke/OT3 and I hope I did the pairing justice.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
